No, their motivation was a simple one: They had no respect for full-humans. True, all shifters tended to look down on full-humans, but they also understood that they were all intertwined. That down deep, they were all human beings. Shifters were just better.
But the de Medicis saw full-humans as nothing more than prey. No different from gazelles or wild boars.
Still . . . human trafficking seemed beneath even them.
But when the Alpha male of the Van Holtz Pack and head of the protective organization The Group laid out the evidence that proved the de Medici involvement, that was enough for Imani. The de Medicis were out of control.
Still, the idea of involving herself with the Group—a protection organization that was run by wolves—and the Bear Preservation Council made her almost sick to her stomach. She’d been raised since birth to worry only about other cats, and even among them there was a hierarchy. But here she sat . . . surrounded by wolves and bears and a few cats. Walking into the room, she’d been ready for a fight. Ready to put the drooling dogs and idiot bears in their place so she could take over this situation and manage it.
But it wasn’t the rich Niles Van Holtz and his cousin Ulrich who were the problem. Nor was it the perversely sized Bayla Ben-Zeev from the BPC that was making Imani’s hairline itch.
It was him. Well . . . him and his two friends.
A lion. His grizzly friend. And the weirdly long-legged, maned wolf that turned out not to be a wolf at all.
“This is what comes with intermingling,” she’d jokingly whispered to the current New York head of Katzenhaus, Mary-Ellen Kozłowski.
It turned out the three males had been in the military together. In the aptly named Unit—a shifter-only division of the Marines.
The lion male, Benjamin, took the lead and had been talking for at least thirty minutes since Niles Van Holtz had finished. The bear, Oliver, did nothing but pick things up from Van Holtz’s desk, investigate each one thoroughly, and then set it back down. Where he set them, though, must have been the wrong place, because Van Holtz moved each thing to another spot seconds later.
And the maned wolf, Bryan, just ate apples that he had in a bag beside his chair.
Benjamin was making the case that he and his two friends should take the lead on this assignment against the de Medicis. He strongly felt that he would be best able to deal with the young de Medici males who protected the older lions that ruled the Pride. “Get rid of them, we can get to the others,” he opined.
Imani could tell from the expression on the faces of the Van Holtzes and Ben-Zeev that they were not comfortable with that notion. Not simply because of Benjamin’s youth. They’d all been young when they’d started as operatives. The problem was the arrogance. It was, honestly, all too human. Only humans had the kind of arrogance that could get others killed. Most predators had instincts and a need to survive. These boys didn’t want to survive; they just assumed they would.
But as a She-lion, Imani believed there was only one way to teach young predators that their arrogance was a dangerous thing. That’s what a Pride or Pack was for. Not only protection but to teach those coming up. Either Benjamin hadn’t been raised by a Pride or his Pride hadn’t done a very good job. An error, but one that could be fixed.
Something Imani was very good at, and the reason these three groups had wanted her involved in the first place: she was a very good fixer.
“I assume,” Van Holtz said when Benjamin finished his pitch, “that you’ll want Dee-Ann and Cella on this with you.”
The kid made that face men make when they want to tell someone nicely “fuck, no.”
“The problem with that,” Benjamin reasoned, “is the de Medicis know all about Smith and Malone. They’re recognizable.”
“Yeahhhhh,” the cat and dog in question said at the same time.
“But I think we have a great option after what we saw in the Netherlands,” the kid went on.
“No, no, no,” the Van Holtzes said together, both wolves shaking their very handsome heads. Imani had never seen the two dogs so animated—and adamant—about anything. They’d always been the “reasonable” dogs. Always wanting to give several options and take everyone’s concerns and opinions seriously. Blah!
“We are not doing that,” Ulrich Van Holtz insisted.
“Look, I get it. The oldest sister seems—”
“Psychotic,” both dogs said together again.
“That’s because of the baby sister,” the maned wolf interjected as he tossed a half-eaten apple core toward the trash can but missed it. Much to the annoyance of the elder Van Holtz. “She’s really protective of her.”
“But we’re not interested in her. It’s the middle sister . . . and her friends. Those are the ones we want.”
“Her friends?” Ulrich Van Holtz asked. “Max MacKilligan has friends? Real ones? Or imaginary?”
“Real ones. They’re part of her basketball team. They all play pro now.”
“You want this situation to be handled by basketball players?”
“We’ve done our research. They’ve got the skills.”
“To play basketball?”
“To kill quickly. Cleanly.”
“Cleanly? Like that mess in the Netherlands?”
“That wasn’t completely their fault.”
“The older sister still won’t like it,” Ben-Zeev said, her gaze on Van Holtz. “She’s made that very clear to all of us.”
“Our plan,” the lion said with great confidence, “is not to go at them head-on. That’s the mistake you guys have been making. We’re going to take things a different route, in a safe space, where they know that their options are very limited.”
The leaders of the three organizations traded glances.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Benjamin continued. “We don’t, for a second, underestimate these females. That’s why we want them for this enterprise. And all of you need to understand that this is an enterprise. The de Medicis won’t go down without a . . . well, I was going to say fight. But really I mean they won’t go down without an apocalypse.”
Imani still hadn’t said anything but she didn’t have to, finding Van Holtz’s doggie gaze locked on her. She gave the smallest nod and he said to Benjamin, “All right. But we want Imani as part of your team.”
The lion male glanced at her, and she knew that he automatically assumed she was looking down on him. Not only because he was young and male but because he wasn’t from a Pride that had been around as long as hers. She was guessing his ancestors were from early 1700s England. Lions, just like her and her kin, but she doubted that one of them had ever set foot on the Serengeti except as part of some paid-for, shifter-only hunting party.
But Imani had no preconceived notions about any cat. She simply watched and learned. As she always had.
So when the male raised a brow at her, she stated, “You guys can do whatever you’re planning on doing. I’ll simply report back to the heads of all three organizations to keep them in the loop. I’ll be the point of contact for everyone. This is your show, guys.”
“Sounds good,” he lied, even managing to force a smile.
But Imani’s smile was real when she promised, “I’m just here to observe and report.”